Page 48 of A Match Made at Christmas

Yes, she was avoiding Hayes. Avoiding her feelings. Avoiding the truth.

She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to give him the chance to let her down easy or tell her it had been a mistake, that they really needed to keep things the way they were. She didn’t want to face the fact that he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and they both knew she would never be a casual fling.

He was in Nantucket to take her to this party—and though she’d considered it, backing out would’ve been rude. Not speaking to him would’ve also been rude.

So here she was, standing in front of him, knowing exactly what she had to do.

She had to let him off the hook.

“I’m not avoiding you,” she lied.

He wore a gray suit with a dusty blue and silver tie that somehow made his eyes look brighter. “I was kidding. I know you’ve been busy.”

Right. Busy making excuses not to see him.

“We need to talk, Pru,” he said. “About last night.”

She shook her head and shrugged at the same time. “Don’t even give it a second thought. I know it was nothing—just a mistake.”

His smile faded. “A mistake.”

“Yes,” she said. “You said you screwed things up, but you didn’t. I promise. I don’t want things to be weird between us, and I know we make great friends, so we’ll just pretend it never happened. It was stupid.” Her laugh sounded ridiculous even to her.

Was he buying this? Because she certainly wasn’t.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”He flashed that smile, cool as ever, horribly unaware of what it did to her on the inside. “You got my texts, right? About Peggy?”

She nodded. “I did.” She tried to play it cool too. Somehow, she thought perhaps she wasn’t quite as successful.

Hayes had shared his plan with her via text the night before. Pru hadn’t bothered to argue—but part of her wondered if maybe Pru and Hayes were foolish to think they could match two people with a past like Howie and Peggy’s.

How many chances did people have to find true love?

No amount of magic could rewrite history, after all.

“You ready to go in?”

She nodded as he motioned toward the crowd. She took a step and felt his hand on the small of her back, leading her through the sea of people. She tensed at the contact.

Just friends.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Nervous?”

“No,” she said, aware that his body wasveryclose to hers. Was he doing that on purpose? “I’m okay.”

He led her through the room, stopping regularly to make small talk with the party’s many attendees. Many people wanted to congratulate Pru for being chosen as the artist to design the talking tree. One couple stopped them to tell them to be sure to try the sliders. Two different people wanted to chat about surfing.

Pru did her best to stay upbeat and not to overthink the way Hayes stayed by her side, fetched her drinks, watched her talk. After forty-five minutes of mingling, he pulled her into a corner faintly lit by a Christmas tree that was part of the display, which did not seem like ajust friendsthing to do. The din of commotion died down as he moved her out of the high traffic area in favor of the quiet space where she could almost pretend they were alone. The chatter of conversation faded to nothing as he met her eyes and smiled.

He leaned in, close enough to make her heart flip-flop. Close enough that when he spoke, she felt his breath on her cheek. His hand was on the wall behind her, but she felt anything but trapped.

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you this yet,” he said. “But you look incredible.”

Just friends.She could tell herself that—tell him that—a million times in a single minute, but her heart was not getting the message.

She smoothed a hand over her emerald green party dress—the perfect balance of dressy/casual—and tried to ignore the quickening of her pulse. “Thanks,” she whispered. “So do you.”

Then, as if he was completely unfazed, he slid his hand around hers and led her back through the room. Onlookers might assume they were more than friends. The photographer who snapped their photo in front of the surfboard-themed replica of the talking tree she’d decorated might assume they were more than friends.

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